


An After-Hours Scrapbook

by Bunsuu



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Major/Cadet, Other, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Harassment, Squick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9089908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunsuu/pseuds/Bunsuu
Summary: SENTINEL FICS OF MINE THAT CONTAIN VARYING LEVELS OF SQUICK. Warning for: Brutal noncon, watersports, turbofoxes, bloodplay, among other things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Opening up with a pretty squicky beginning. 
> 
> That turbofox warning? It's for this.

It was uncomfortable; on his knees and chestplates with his legs spread as far as they could go. Sentinel wiggled impatiently with a grimace on his faceplates. He just wanted this 'session' to start already, so he could go back to his own suite and try to get some recharge, but, Alpha Trion had done nothing more than forced three synthetic charge inductors down his intake and ordered him to the floor in the normal position, where he was bolted and restrained to the steel floor with inactive stasis cuffs.

The inductors were now affecting his frame, his valve folds dripping onto the floor and making a more-than-likely sizeable puddle of lubricant. Why didn't he just get over here and... and... use him like he usually did?! On most occasions he was in this position, he found himself being fragged brutally by the old bot over and over again; forced to keep his optics locked on the lens of the mounted cameradrone as his Master used his frame. It was humiliating; though not the most humiliating thing he's ever done. Still, by now he thought that Alpha Trion would be at least fragging his intake...

A chime rang out fron the door, which Alpha Trion sprung up to answer looking almost giddy as he did so. Did he invite some of his friends again? Sentinel sincerely hoped not. He had been pounding out dents and buffing out scratches nearly all the next cycle. The door opened and he could barely make out the noise of Trion thanking his servant and whispering to them in hushed tones. Soon, they had gone and the door had shut and locked behind them, and something was... dragged in? He longed to look up to identify this object but he didn't want to face his Master's crop before they even started.

"Sweetspark, I brought you a treat for the cycle." His tone was sarcastic but still maleficent in nature...

"T-thank you, Master." Sentinel bowed his helm further to the ground. 

"Feel free to look, but don't move unless I tell you to."

"Yes, Master."

Sentinel wasted no time and looked over his shoulder; the old 'bot stood close behind him, smiling down at his toy. With a wink Trion unsubspaced a small vial that looked as though it'd been stolen from Perceptor's lab. Maybe it was? It was unsealed, the smell of whatever was inside quickly registering on his olfactory sensors. Something further off to the side made a quick thumping noise, startling Sentinel. It was too far away to have been Alpha Trion, and he himself had not moved.

Glancing around, Sentinel found that the only thing that could have moved was what must have been dragged in. An unfamiliar containment unit stood a little bit across the room; it had opaque blue glass panels with a base and roof that looked to be locking mechanisms. What was inside? 

Sentinel's thoughts were interrupted when Alpha Trion's icy fingers brushed over his valve folds, causing him to yelp in surprise. Two, maybe three digits that felt slick with a very cold liquid that was thinner than the lubricant already dripping from his valve were rubbing all over his exposed port entrance. They pulled back for a moment before returning again with more of the substance, this time penetrating and making Sentinel whine and buck at the odd sensation. Rubbing at the walls, the fingers seemed to be trying to coat them in the liquid; what effects this would have on Sentinel he didn't know.

"There, you should be ready for your treat tonight, pet." The fingers withdrew from his valve, the excess lubricant that must have been on Trion's servo was then wiped off on his aft. 

Ready? Was that stuff lubricant?

He waited to hear Alpha Trion's panel retract and stuff his valve with his spike, but, the Council Lead merely walked around Sentinel and back to his chair, where he sat down with another small object in his servo. This time, it was a small remote with two switches. 

"Poor thing, it must be so excited by now. Let's not force it to wait any longer, yes? Enjoy your treat, you whore." The last words were venomously said, making Sentinel squirm in anticipation.

One of the two switches was hit, and the container's hidden door slid open automatically. From his position on the floor, he couldn't see what was inside of it. Soon, though, the helm of a mechanimal- a turbofox- poked out, its' large audials perked up and forward in interest. What in the name of Cybertron...? Why would Alpha Trion say this was a treat?! Especially since he's on the floor with his panel open and--...

...oh, slag.

"M-Master...?" Sentinel squeaked, drawing the attention of the turbofox to him.

It stared, seemingly contemplating the bound Prime in front of it, audials twitching. After a few kliks it moved out of the container, its' large frame stalking toward Sentinel. He was vulnerable; his servos and knees bound to the floor and his panel kept open by the perverted glitch who's doing this to him. Closer and closer it came, until its' vents tickled Sentinel's plating. Making a sound somewhere between a sigh and a huff, it moved around to stand behind Sentinel's back, out of sight. 

A weird sensation of having his valve sniffed made Sentinel wiggle and his vents catch in horror. For a moment, nothing happened, until he felt it draw nearer and start to mount him. Paralyzed with shock, Sentinel began to shake as its' warm midplating rested on his back and its' helm hovered over his own. The turbofox, he belatedly realized, was running hot. That must've been the purpose of the fluid from earlier. Two 'clicks' of a couple panels retracting caught Sentinel's attention. Something jutted out against his aft, thick and warm and oh, slag that was the turbofox's spike, wasn't it?

Sentinel looked up at Alpha Trion, who's servo was pumping his spike luxuriously. The dirty old slagger was smirking lecherously as he watched the mechanimal mount the Prime in front of him. Grunting, the turbofox blindly rocked its' hipstruts, trying to find Sentinel's valve. When it found the warm opening, it paused for a moment, panting harshly. Then, the turbofox thrust forward, burying itself to the hilt inside of Sentinel, who screamed from the sudden penetration. It gave Sentinel no time to recover, starting a wild rhythm immediately afterwards. Sentinel sobbed and wailed with each rut of the mechanimal above him, the spike stretching his port's walls and subtle ridges making the nodes sting gloriously with stimulation. 

He felt as though he was going to overheat; embarrassment began to set in when Sentinel felt the base of the turbofox's spike begin to swell. Cleaning fluid streamed down his cheeks, and oral lubricant escaped the left corner of his intake. Still, it pounded mercilessly into Sentinel's port, chasing its' own release. The knot kept getting larger and larger each passing thrust; signalling that the turbofox was getting close to overloading. Sentinel was close, as well; his valve fluttering and the familliar coil of impending overload clouding everything in sight. Or was that his cleaner fluid?

Sentinel flushed with shame at his frame's eagerness to take this mechanimal's spike and enjoy it as it fragged him as if he himself were no more than a turbofox in heat. Realization dawned on Sentinel as he felt the knot slam against the folds of his valve that were stretched wide around the spike's width that the turbofox was actually going to overload. Inside of him. His valve was going to be full of this turbofox's transfluid. 

With a sudden howl, Sentinel overloaded, hard. It brought the turbofox over the edge with him, the fluttering valve easily overloading it. The knot slid snugly inside of his valve, effectively tying them together. Sentinel keened long and hard as he felt the rush of transfluid quickly fill his valve; the excess escaping around their joined frames and running down Sentinel's thighs. 

Shame quickly set in when he glanced up at Alpha Trion's visage. The red and purple colored mech sat upon his chair, vigorously moving his servo up and down his leaking spike with the most lecherous expression Sentinel had ever seen. Movement was limited, but the sloshing of the transfluid inside was acutely noticeable, making him feel even more dirtied. 

"I wouldn't get too comfortable. That turbofox thinks you're a compatible mate in heat. You're going to be mounted by this turbofox for quite some time. Don't worry, though; I'll pull it off of you when it collapses of exhaustion."

"...What?!" Sentinel choked back a moan as the fluid sloshed and the tie stung with the sudden jerk of his frame.

Ugh, he was going to need to aim a high-powered solvent hose into his valve to clean this beast's transfluid out of his valve.

...

If Alpha Trion would let him, that is.


	2. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short.

Both of his servos were on the desk, fingers wrapped tightly around the edges. It was all Sentinel felt he could do, really, with the Major in charge of the boot camp ventilating against the back of his head. Greedy hands were dancing against his chassis, feeling and groping everything they could reach. They roamed, and roamed until they finally- blessedly- began pawing at his thighs. As the servos dipped between them Sentinel felt the distinct sensation of a glossa slowly rolling along the back of his neck. He only allowed himself to shiver. 

Soon the fingers began stroking the bared valve, trying to coax the mesh into lubricating. The Major began thrusting his hips against the Cadet, leaving sticky smears of prefluid on Sentinel's aft. Unable to help himself, Sentinel flushed and rocked side to side on his pedes. He wanted the Major to hurry up so he could go back to the barracks and forget this ever happened! Or, at least until he was called back to the Major's private quarters. As if hearing his plea, the tip of the Major's spike began to nudge inbetween the outer lips of his valve, slickened with lubricant. When had he gotten wet? 

Whimpering as the spike fully entered him in one push from the Major, Sentinel offlined his optics and tried to remember his dream of becoming Magnus.


End file.
